I should have kissed you longer
by Eric T Cartman
Summary: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy each learn to cope with the fact that in the calm of an oncoming storm, they have secretly found solace in each other. Can she help to show him the light? Or will he drag her into the darkness with him?
1. I should have kissed you longer (Redone)

_**Authors Note:**_

 ** _I've gone back and pretty much completely redone this chapter so that it makes a little more sense in the context of the rest of the story. This entire thing is sort of clunky since it wasn't really supposed to pan out into a full fledged story anyways, but this particular chapter bugged me the most. It was sort of supposed to be a one shot, that turned into a two shot, and then just sort of took itself over from there. I enjoy the fact that it keeps me busy, so I'll keep writing regardless of how bad it is._**

Hermione Granger had been staring at the same small, slightly discolored patch on the wall of the Gryffindor common room for what could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours. None of it made any difference to her. Time was cruelly refusing to pass, as it always had these days. Instead, time sat stagnant and stale, hanging thick and stifling in the air like the smoke trapped from the fireplace. She couldn't recall how long it had been since she had actually sat down on the sofa and begun to stare down the strangely off-colored blot in the first place, only that it felt like an eternity, and that each minute passed slower and with more resistance than the last, and that her gaze had been focused on small, unfortunate patch of mismatched paint for so long that a myriad of colors and strange, illusionary bursts of light had begun to cloud her vision. She knew she should have been studying, but her mind refused to think straight and she found herself staring offhandedly at the words at the page, registering none of the information.

These days, it seemed like time was never on her side. Pressure from school was taking a toll on her health, Harry's growing obsession with the Dark Lord was making her mental, and a rising tension had engulfed the hallways of Hogwarts. The suspicion between Gryffindor and Slytherin house was palpable, leaving a stark, uncomfortable silence whenever the two rival groups were in proximity to each other. Making matters even worse for her was the butterflies she felt whenever a certain Slytherin cross her path, followed shortly by crippling guilt as she realized her palms were sweating and all the color had drained from her face as she pulled her robe closer, tightening the scarf carefully wrapped around her neck to self consciously conceal any visible evidence, despite the fact that a carefully completed glamour spell concealed it all entirely.

The reminders were small, but left emotions running rampant through her mind. A small, crescent-shaped bruise placed the base of her neck hidden beneath her uniform that ached sweetly any time she ran her fingertips over the indents. A series of fading claw marks running down the small of her back where nails had desperately dug into her tender flesh. A sickly sweet aroma that clung to her robes, entangling itself in her curled locks, seeping from her own pores and permeating her body like a disease. The familiar taste of him that made a home in her mouth, and the way she abhorred herself for the way she savored the flavor of it, and more so when she would panic as it began to fade away. Even worse than her bodily momentos was the morning hours afterward, where she knew she could still trace the lines on the face from the night before with accuracy and map out subtle inconsistencies on pallid skin and pale, flaxen hair from memory like constellations, recalling every flaw, form, and shape from a face she desperately wanted to remember in unbroken detail.

Her conscience weighed on her heavily, even more she would see Ron eyeing her suspiciously when she would realize she had been staring at the same page unblinkingly for several minutes, or when Harry would point out she hadn't touched her food in the Great Hall, or when Ginny would comment on the peculiar way she was walking that day. Each time her face would flush a furious shade of crimson and she would insist she was fine, just stressed out and worried about 'You-know-who' and of course, term finals. No marks could have possibly been visible, she meticulously made sure of it. All that remained of long-standing lie she wove was the tarnishing marks it left on her mind, weighing her indefinitely to the moments that refused to pass peacefully, imprinting themselves permanently inside of her weeks and even months later.

The shame had been expected, but the thing that caught her off guard was the unfamiliar, sorrowful ache she felt on the nights she would spend alone. A sick sense of need for something that should never have existed in the first place, and an overwhelming longing for someone she knew she should have detested alongside her classmates. Although she considered herself somewhat decent at covering the truth, occasionally her companions would remark on her eyes. The way they became just a bit too bloodshot from restless nights, or a bit too weighted and piercing from an unblinking and empty stare, or a bit too glassed over from what she knew was holding in the sentiments that she knew could never be known by anyone, especially her classmates or most of all, her closest and most trusted friends. Luckily, her environment provided countless excuses for her morose demeanor, and the truth was so unbelievably outlandish that no one would ever suspect it, least of all from _her,_ Gryffindors' golden girl.

As much as she absolutely despised lying to those closest to her, it was an inevitability. There was no way they could possibly understand the reason why there was a sharp, carving pain she felt where her heart should have been beating or the pressure that mounted heavily underneath her eyes and cheeks. She would be deemed a traitor for cause of the clawing, mournful ache she felt rise in her throat, or the empty pit that settled in her stomach, forming a hideous, hollow home in her core. Hermione Granger would rather be thrown in St. Mungos and deemed completely and utterly insane than to admit to her loved ones the pathetic, school girlish way she yearned for the company of the man who had incessantly made her school years miserable, and even if she _did_ admit it, St. Mungos would likely be the outcome. That or howling laughter accompanied by "Good one, Mione!" It was a risk she didn't want to take.

That was not to mention the danger that would place both her secret companion and herself in. There was so much more at stake than social ostracism and ridicule. Their encounters were kept carefully guarded between them, absolutely private moments that could never be known to the outside world, or by the confidants of either side. Should the wrong people ever catch wind of their activities, death would be the preferable option to what would likely follow. The Order would no doubt consider any information she had to be compromised if she was caught fraternizing with a member of a family in close quarters with Voldemort himself, and that would be nothing in comparison to the Death Eaters that wouldn't take kindly to one of their own "dirtying himself" with one of her kind. A half-breed. A traitor. A mudblood. She often shivered at the thought of what would become of her if anyone were to ever discover the truth.

Hermione considered herself a logical and rational human being, yet even considering the consequences and the betrayal of those she held dear, she couldn't bring herself to put an end to the nights where they could finally stop pretending. When she was with him, she felt something she wasn't so sure she could feel anywhere else anymore. She felt calm. Even more, she felt a girlish sense of excitement watching the hateful facade fall from his features as he took her hand and led her away into the night. A strange, tingling feeling would settle in her stomach at the animated way he would speak about things he was loved or had recently learned about as they lie together in his bed. For the first time in a long time, she would crack up in hearty laughter alongside him when he would tell her stories about his childhood, like the time he accidentally poured bubble juice all over Lucius' brand new set of expensive robes and confidently tried to get it out using his new wand only to light them on fire instead, or the time his mother and father had gotten so drunk on Firewhiskey that they sang at the top of their lungs while dancing around the front room together. Most of all, the peaceful look that would come across Draco's face as he finally drifted to sleep holding her closely. It was these things that made her disappear into the night anytime she received the parchment bearing the words she awaited anxiously.

" _I need you now, Granger"_

These words would beckon to her again, and she would acknowledge the call with hardly a second thought, knowingly walking herself down a treacherous road, a fair price to pay for the betrayal of those she held dear. As much as she would fiercely deny it, she coveted those small sunset hours where his intimate fragrance was at home once more with the source, the taste of him that she craved could again be gluttonously enjoyed, the caress of his warm skin was no longer a ghost that haunted her, and the things he confided in her in the darkness of their sanctuary still resounded freshly in her mind. Though she didn't want to admit it to herself, or most especially anyone else, she would miss the way her heart would beat furiously any time he whispered the phrase "I want you, Granger" demandingly into her ear, and the soft way his hands would trace patterns on her back as she curled up beside him.

The morning would come too soon and put an end to the few hours where they could finally be at peace with each other, carving a terrible path through the navy sky and bringing with it the realization that a new day was dawning, a day where to the outside world, they were once again Slytherin and Gryffindor, Pureblood and halfblood, Malfoy and Granger. In the last few moments before she would make her way back to the common room, their lips would meet in one final exchange, and the only thought that flooded her mind was "Will this be the last time?" The thought pained her as she sat alone in the common room, running her hands over the glamoured marks dotting her body, thinking the same line over and over again.

"I should have kissed you longer."


	2. I never should have held you at all

_**Authors Note: Super angsty, I know. I really hate writing characters out of.. well, character, but I feel like these aren't too terribly out of character because they are, after all, hormonal teenagers. I feel like people forget that Hermione is GIRL and has emotions, thoughts, needs and desires like one. I feel like she would question herself just like the rest of us do, and have emotions and feelings she can't control just like the rest of us do too. I realize that her moonlighting as Malfoys' lover is super unrealistic, and her falling for him is even more so, but that's why it's a fuckin' fanfiction. As for Mr. Malfoy himself, we all know that dudes have a tendency to want what they can't have, and it isn't exceptionally uncommon that they would fall for that forbidden person, especially if that person is as unusually kind as Hermione has a tendency to be.**_

Draco Malfoy could hear the muffled, excitable voices of his compatriots in the common room through the walls of his bedroom, but he had no desire to join in the revelry. He had no motivation to force himself interact with anyone at all at the moment. He found himself with a morose demeanor of late, and had often shunned the company of his peers and followers for the solitude of his own mind. Luckily for him, they didn't question his social withdrawals, deeming it a reasonable response to the stress of his family life, upcoming holidays, and exam pressure.

He kept his heavily hooded eyes downcast toward the opposite side of the bed where the silhouette of a body that had lain beside him the night before had left a delicate imprint. As pitiful as it made him feel, he couldn't bring himself to disturb the body shaped valley indented in the jade satin. Instead, he gently placed his own form down further on the bed, allowing his head to fall next to the slightly rumpled disturbance in the sheets, inhaling the soft perfume that still clung lightly to the fibers. Something in the subtle floral scent made a lump form in his throat, clawing it's way upward and leaving a painful trail down the back of his neck. It was an fragrance he knew intimately, more intimately than he would ever dare to admit to anyone. It was the scent that belonged to a certain female third member of the beloved golden trio of a rival house, and the same girl that spent the majority of the previous night wrapped underneath him. Not that anyone would ever believe that. The unspoken agreement between the two had seen to that, for both of their sakes. There was more than just schoolyard reputation at stake if someone were to discover that a treasured member of the Order of the Phoenix spent her nights within intimate proximity to the figurehead family member of Slytherin house and known Death Eater Draco Malfoy.

To the scrutinizing eyes of the rest of the rest of the school, they were bitter enemies. The high-strung, goody two shoes, puritanical mudblood of Gryffindor house was a constant target for a barrage of Slytherin based insults on a daily basis. The thought of a Malfoy spending his nights entwined with Granger was absolutely laughable. Granger's sexual prowess, or lack thereof, was often the butt of many jokes around the Slytherin common room. Up until a few months ago, Malfoy too would make snide comments and sarcastic remarks, mocking her equally with the rest of his companions. Fortunately, none of them seemed to take notice that he now sat silent and dismissive as they traded jeers directed at the prudish girl, or that his nails would dig harshly into the concealed flesh of his arm anytime someone would jovially slander her, nor did they notice the subtle twitch his eye would make anytime her name was mentioned casually.

It had started as a simple game. A game that started the moment he saw the frizzy haired girl becoming friendly with King Weaslebee and Saint Potter on the first days of school during his beginning years at Hogwarts. His immense distaste for Potter and Weasley made anyone they associated with a prime target for his malice, and the fact that Granger was a mudblood had only heightened his pleasure at cruelly mocking her. Year after year he made a point to make life difficult for the gawky girl, due in no small part to the way he reveled in watching Weasley's face convulse in rage when he made a point to malevolently belittle her. It wasn't until their third year that she finally fought back, not even defending herself, but the creature that was about to pay with its life as unfortunate byproduct of its arrogance.

 _"Foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"_

The words reverberated freshly in his mind as if they had only been spoken moments ago. He had never been able to force them out of his mind, nor the physical assault that happened only moments later. That filthy little mudblood had been the first person to ever stand up to him with such passion. Instead of casually brushing off his abuse like she had in the past, she had broken his nose and humiliated him in front of his lackeys. The incident had only exacerbated his foul disposition toward her, jumping the gap from amused distaste to intense hatred. Not unlike a similar incident that inevitably lead to him taking her into his bed many years later in a surreal twist of events, and that lead to this moment where he now sat with an anxious churning in his stomach, feeling an overwhelming sense of emptiness as he fingered at a small, red love mark that shone proudly underneath his collar where her lips had once been.

The strange mix of longing and disgust he felt left a sneer gracing his lips. She was filth, dirt, and everything he had been raised to believe should be exterminated from the world, yet she was the only person in the world that didn't make him feel completely isolated and utterly alone. The only time he felt anything other than devastating anxiety or even more terrifying apathy was when he could feel her skin gracing his. The excitement and stimulation he felt when her sultry mahogany eyes stared up at his iced grey ones through thick lashes was unparalleled to anything else he'd ever felt with anyone else before her. The sirenic way she chanted his name in the throes of passion was the only thing that made him feel wanted, made him feel needed. On the rare, moonlight nights they spent together, there was no mudblood or Malfoy name. The death, chaos and persecution that existed outside the castle walls no longer stained his conscience. The only thing existed was a woman who should have been seeking shelter anywhere but in his arms, yet she continued to lie in the serpents den against what he knew to be both of their better judgments.

A whirlwind of conflicting emotion raged behind his steel eyes. Many times he had begun to write the letter that would put an end to their secret affair, yet each time only one sentence would find its way onto the paper.

 _"I need you now, Granger."_

When he called, she would always come. It never took long before her hooded figure would appear from the shadows and he would take her hand, leading her deep into the bowels of the dungeons and into his room. There was sparely a word exchanged from the time they transverse the winding tunnels of the Slytherin dungeon to the time they each lay collapsed and breathless on each others chests, but after all was said and done, she would occasionally utter a phrase or ask a question, and he would find himself telling her of his home, his family, the ways he grew up or things he was fond of. She would listen silently as he would talk of his pet peacock Abraxas, named after his grandfather, or the way his mother smiled when she told him how much he looked like his father while she would reach up and stroke his pale, golden hair. He would speak of the way he loved the smell of rain in the forest and the way wind sounded through willow trees all while she would gently run her fingers along various scars that marred his blanched skin, drinking in every word he would say, smiling softly. It struck him that she was the only one who cared to actually acknowledge and listen to the things he would say instead of nodding in polite agreement like his elders or howling in fake, exaggerated laughter out of fear like his peers. It wasn't long until a sick, empty pit would begin to grow in his stomach as he realized how lowly the moon hung, and that inky black was beginning to give way to periwinkle blue in the sky, and she would close her eyes and sigh as she lifted herself carefully from the bed and reached for her clothing. He often found himself wondering if she dreaded that moment as much as he realized he did.

When their lips would meet one final time before she slunk into the shadows and back to her world, each time he resolved that this had to be the last time he called for her. What they were doing was too wrong, too against nature, too dangerous. There was no telling what would happen to the both of them if either side discovered the truth of where Hermione really disappeared to at night, and it was nothing in comparison to what was to come, the things he was about to do. If she knew the truth, she would never, _could_ never forgive him. It was his destiny, his fate, and though her finding out the truth was an inevitability, the thought that made his insides curl in agony was that she would likely be dead long before she could look at him with eyes once again filled with rage, hate, and disgust. He would be left with nothing but the bitter memory of her ghost laying next to his, her intoxicating scent haunting him, and the echo of the soft sounds she would make as she slept as his only remaining part of her. He had to get her away from him, he had to protect her from himself, but the thought of living without those nights with her as his only company brought an icy stillness to his heart and permeating dread throughout his body.

 _One last time_ , he told himself. _One last time, and then I'll force her to go._

As he sat there clutching the pillow that had once housed her body, he felt a stifling sense of loneliness as the staggering urge to cry overwhelmed his body. His family values waged a war on his heart and mind, knowing the full extent of his fathers disgust and disappointment should he ever be discovered and the fact that he would likely be the one to have to kill her regardless, either second hand or by his own. Never before had he felt so full of self hatred and frustration. He hadn't chosen this life, he never even _had_ a choice. Why couldn't she have just stayed away? Why couldn't she have rolled her eyes and gone about her business? Why hadn't she pushed him off in the library instead of looking up at him with eyes that held a hint of something besides anger? Again and again he berated himself, telling himself a sentence over and over in hopes that eventually he would believe it.

" _I never should have held you at all."_


	3. Trouble in the library

_**Authors Note: Yeah, okay, nick the bit about this being a short story. I hate it when people leave stories like that, and honestly it doesn't feel right to just leave it there. I know this story is cheesy as all hell and I wrote the damn thing more of just to get some of my own emotions off my chest, but I hate leaving things half finished. Not to say that this is a great or even a remotely good story but it's mine none the less, and I'll see it through. Its an absolute disorganized wreck and a piece of shit, but it keeps me somewhat busy. I'll probably go through and revise the first chapter as well, since it makes no sense AT ALL anymore, especially since I'm taking it in a completely different direction than I had intended, seeing as it's not really about insecurity anymore.**_

' _Hermione paced the rows of bookshelves that stretched as far back as her eyes could see, running her fingers inquisitively over the spines of the leather bound tomes as she passed them. The library was easily her favorite place in the entire castle. She truly felt at home with the smell of musty books and old wooden shelves, and the sound of crisp pages being turned at random intervals had a strangely relaxing quality to it. She could spend hours browsing the endless catalogs with no specifics in mind, but today she needed a particular book that would be her study guide for an upcoming potions exam. Potions had never been her strong suit, but she was determined to pass with flying colors._

 _She made her way back to the section she knew the book was kept, making careful mental notes of the names of other various books that could contain information relevant to the material she would be tested on. Finding the shelf where the Madam Pinch had told her the book should be located, she meticulously scanned title after title searching for the pesky guide, stopping only when she felt the short hairs of her neck stand on edge. Someone, or something, was watching her. At that moment, she heard a familiar taunting voice coming from the edge of the bracket._

" _Looking for this, Granger?"_

 _Malfoy stood near the end of the row, holding up a small, maroon book in one hand, and his other lazily tucked into his trouser pocket underneath his ebony blazer. On his face was his characteristic sneer, his steely eyes peering down at her with a mixture of loathing and disgust. Hermione felt the customary twinge of hate and annoyance at his presence._

" _I didn't know you could read. I guess you can teach an old troll new tricks." She refused to look at him and give him the satisfaction of seeing the crestfallen look on her face. That book had been her best shot at getting top marks, and there was no way she was going to get it back from Malfoy, especially if he knew how badly she had wanted it._

" _Watch your tongue, or I'll have it removed it from your mouth." His voice was laced with the venom that was a trademark to his demeanor. Her irritation began to peak at his arrogance._

" _Don't you have first years to go and frighten?" She kept her eyes away from his shadowy form, ignoring the fact that it was getting slightly closer, still brandishing the book she coveted. She retreated away from him, backing herself further into the row, pretending to inspect the books closest to the window._

 _He continued stepping forward slowly. His imposing frame was only a few feet away now, towering over her. His proximity made her uncomfortable, and there was a gleam in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine. "I don't like your tone, mudblood. Even a filthy half-breed like you should know when to show some respect, something you've always lacked. Someone should teach you a lesson."_

 _She laughed out loud, throwing her head back in a fit of amusement. She could see his face twist in anger, and it only made her laugh harder. He took himself so seriously that she couldn't help but derive gratification at his obvious offense at her response. "Respect? Please, Malfoy, you haven't done anything in your life remotely worthy of even the most basic respect, and if you don't back off, the only lesson being taught will be reminding you of exactly how it feels to spend some time as a ferret. Now, if you'll excu-" She was stopped short by a large, powerful had on her collarbone shoving her backwards into the wall._

" _How dare you, you filthy mudblood!" His face convulsed in rage. "You have no idea what I could do to you! What I should do to you..." He spat out the words, his hand clenching lightly around her throat. She felt panic rise in her stomach, adrenaline beginning to course through her veins. He was about to attack her, and she was too paralyzed in a mix of surprise and fear to think straight. Crossing wands with Malfoy was one thing, but a physical battle between them? Even she knew she lacked the upper hand against his built figure. Reaching for her wand might have been an option, but he was in such close proximity that he could simply snap it in half before she could so much as finish pulling it out of her pocket. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for anyone whom she could call out to for aid, but the library was desolate and dark as most of the school was carousing in the Great Hall. She grabbed instinctively at his wrist as he slightly tightened his grip on her windpipe, digging her nails into the exposed flesh of his hand. She could still easily breathe, but the fact that his hand rested on such an delicate place in a situation that could easily turn deadly terrified her._

 _Refusing to let him sense her fear, she brought her face up to met his aggressive glare. There was a flood of emotions behind his cold, hate filled eyes, and a small spark of something she couldn't quite recognize. He stared her down with equal intensity, and for several moments, not a word was spoken between the pair. She could feel his fingers twitching slightly on the soft skin of her throat, threatening to clench, but never doing air was thick with tension and the seconds dragged on, each one bringing her a new wave of fear that at any moment, he might decide to seize control and kill her, or worse._

 _Suddenly and without warning, he inhaled sharply and his eyes widened in what seemed to be realization, and then a flash of fear. She noticed his throat rise and fall in a hard swallow as he loosened his grip on her neck, leaving his hand resting limp on her collar. He tore his focus away from her, and instead looked at the wall behind her in a distant, empty, and almost pitiful gaze. She studied his face, wondering if it was another one of his tricks to get her to let her guard down, but after several moments, realized that he genuinely seemed lost, scared, and confused behind what was his masterfully crafted look of apathy. She loosened her hold on his hand, but left it sitting on top of his, wary he might resume the assault at any second._

 _Several more moments passed where neither person moved. Malfoy kept his eyes away from her, leering unblinkingly at some unseen thing just behind her while she kept her focus intently on him. The rush of adrenaline she felt had her ready to bolt at the slightest of sudden movements on his part, but strangely she felt that she was in no real danger anymore. Her hand still rested warily on his, and she noticed that he was trembling, if only slightly. Examining his face, she felt something she never thought she could feel for the flaxen haired man before her. She felt pity. She wasn't certain what concerned her more. That something was so obviously terribly, terribly wrong, or the fact that she actually cared what it was. It was several more minutes before she could bring herself to speak._

" _Malfoy..." Her voice was barely even a whisper, yet he jumped at the sound of it. His eyes flashed back to hers and for a moment she felt fear rise in her throat again until she realized that his eyes were slightly more glassy than they had been but a moment ago. She felt light perspiration stick to her skin underneath his warm palm, and she wasn't entirely sure if it belonged to her. His eyebrows furrowed and the once deadly look that captured his features now seemed desperate and pathetic. He still didn't move his hand away._

" _Malfoy.." She spoke softly. The name sounded strange to her when it wasn't being condemned or laughed about shortly after. It was even stranger coming from her lips with a tenderness that was reserved for her close friends and family. He seemed to take notice of this, slightly raising his eyebrows in what seemed to be part confusion, and part curiosity. The next words slipped from her mouth before she could stop herself. "Are you... okay?"_

 _His mouth went slightly agape and his features softened for a split second. His fingers curled tenderly on her skin, his nails tickling her collar bone. He peered down at her, his face concealed partially behind his long, drooping pale hair with an expression she hadn't seen come over his features for as long as she had known him. Gratitude. Yet as quickly as it came, it was gone as he quickly regained control of himself._

 _He hastily removed his hand from her shoulder, allowing hers to retreat limply to her side. He gazed sideways at the floor for several seconds in contemplation before speaking. "Here's your book, Granger." He spat out the sentence quickly, forcefully shoving the small volume into her hands before he turned on his heel, languidly making his way toward the exit. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at her insides and she couldn't help but call out once more._

" _Draco!"_

 _He stopped short, taken aback by the use of his first name instead of the usually surly spoken surname. He wouldn't turn to look at her, and only paused for a few seconds before continuing to leave the deserted athenaeum, his footsteps echoing throughout the room her only company as he left her alone to ponder what exactly had just happened. Long after he had exited, she found herself frozen with her hand resting on her neck, thinking back not only on the events that had just taken place, but the grim knowledge she found herself in possession of. In his haste to remove his hand from her body, he had let slip a small glimpse at his momentarily exposed forearm. A forearm which now bore the mark of Voldemort, wriggling and writhing angrily on his skin._

 _Harry was right. Draco Malfoy was now a Death Eater. But something in his distressed demeanor kept her from running immediately to her friends to tell them of her discovery. He didn't seem so much like a Death Eater as he did a scared boy who had a title cast upon him that he was being coerced into living up to. A Death Eater would have strangled her with his bare hands and left her to die in the concealed corridor without a second thought. Draco Malfoy hadn't. Draco Malfoy had stopped short of harming her, seemingly terrified and even disgusted at the thought of actually hurting someone. He had always talked a big game, but couldn't seem to bring himself to actively attack someone, even if that someone was viewed as less than human by his values._

 _Draco was cold, cruel, arrogant, bigoted, and narcissistic, but she didn't think him a killer, and a killer was an implied prerequisite of being a Death Eater. He was an infuriating schoolyard bully, but a murderer? He had made life a living hell for her friends, herself included, but she couldn't help but feel her heart ache at the thought of the fear and desperation that had been reflected in his eyes moments before. She had no doubt in her mind Malfoy did all of the sadistic things he did to impress his father more so than out of actual spite for "half-bloods", but coming of age and being forced to live up to his family's harrowing legacy was another league entirely. She came to the conclusion that their altercation had been the direct result of pressure by his family, or even someone higher up, no doubt to prove himself to his superiors._

 _If she told Harry about what had just transpired, he would begin his obsessive mission to expose the youngest Malfoy for attacking her, no doubt telling Sirius and Dumbledore of what he'd learned, and it would only be a matter of time before Malfoy would be in even more danger from both sides, most especially his from being discovered. He was of no use to Voldemort if he couldn't spy from inside the school, even becoming a liability if he was under the constant scrutiny of the Order, and it would likely result in his death. No good could come from it. No, she had to think of something on her own. He didn't want this, she could see it in his eyes and written across his face plain as day. There had to be something she could do, some way she could convince him that he didn't need to do this, even if she was the last person on the planet that he would trust._

 _She stared at the study guide he had shoved apologetically into her hands. His one act of kindness that was surrounded by years of unending taunts and barbarism, but the one act of kindness that was enough to make her determined to help him. One decent deed that would lead to series of events that no one, most especially her could have possibly foreseen.'_

Hermione's eyes blinked slowly open, greeted by the harsh morning light streaming through the curtains that lined the Gryffindor common room. She had fallen asleep studying again, and hadn't quite made it back to her bed in the dormitories. Judging by the dawn slowly making its way up from behind the mountains, she had only a short while before students came rushing in, scurrying to breakfast and then to their various classes. On this particular day, she had potions class, a lesson she shared with Slytherin house.

It wasn't uncommon for her to dream about those beginning interactions with Draco since they had happened. At first it had been her Gryffindor sense of nobility bent on helping someone she knew to be in distress, even if it was her schoolyard arch nemesis. She justified it by telling herself that having Malfoy as an ally would prove invaluable in the fight against the Death Eaters, and any intel he could offer would no doubt be of use to the Order of the Phoenix, even if she couldn't divulge the source, she knew they would take her at her word. However, somewhere along the way and over time, it had evolved into something more, and the lines between what started out as a shaky truce between the pair and deep connection had been blurred.

Although to the outside world, this couldn't be further from the truth. Their private communication was kept bare minimum for both of their safety, and their public interaction was just as venomous as it always had been on the occasions they were forced into confrontation, although anyone who looked too closely might notice that his eyes were softer than they had been in years previous, or that the banter between the two seemed more forced, less genuine than it had before, like a carefully rehearsed dance rather than malevolent bickering between rivals.

On days like today where they shared classrooms, they simply refused to acknowledge each other, although on rare occasion she would feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end again and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him staring at her. Her face would flush a shade of deep crimson and he would quickly look away, returning to whatever activities required his attention. Thankfully no one seemed to notice the subtle looks between the two, though she wished circumstances were different and that concealing their friendship wouldn't be necessary in the first place.

But the circumstances weren't different, and the ruse had to be carefully maintained or it would get both of them tortured and killed. The only reminder she had of just how different things were between them was the dreams that replayed themselves in her mind, and the exceptionally rare nights she found herself wrapped up in his arms when he would send for her under the cover of darkness. The reality of the situation brought a dull, mourning ache to her stomach as she gathered up her supplies, picking herself carefully up from the sofa. She heaved a heavy sigh as she began to walk towards the doorway, preparing herself mentally for the day that lay ahead of her.


	4. Just thinking about finals

_**Authors Note: Here we go again. Completely uncharted territory here. This story is formatted differently than anything I've ever written so it might be a little.. odd, and definitely clunky? I'm sort of just trying out a different style here. Also, since I.. did not really plan this out, we'll say it takes place the year before they leave Hogwarts in search of the Horcruxes, but Sirius is alive in a strange twist of events, most of which I'm imagining is a large, frizzy bundle of Bellatrixs' hair getting in her face before she can actually cast the killing curse on him, making her nose to itch, leading to a sneeze and causing her to miss. Or whatever tickles your fancy. I'll be honest, I wasn't even planning on working a time line here and just sort of wrote whatever came to mind.. Hopefully I can try and work it out later. I'll try to pay more attention to detail from now on. Although, not going to lie, I was pretty trashed when I wrote a good majority of this. It's also probably riddled with mistakes, I have no doubt, so bear with me.**_

The air in the dungeon-based classrooms was notoriously thick and stale, leaving the lingering smell of wet moss, rotting wood, and burnt foreign herbs hanging heavily in the muggy rooms. The borderline putrid draft was further polluted by the light yet detectable scent of mildew that escorted Professor Snape's trailing, inky robes as he patrolled the space between rows of desks, as it did similarly with the attire of anyone who spent far too long in the dark of the dank basement space. The foul stench often put students in a surly mood in the summer when it became slightly reminiscent of a stagnant pool of water baking slowly in the sun, and in the winter when the students were often already cranky from the cold nipping bitterly away at any exposed skin. Either way, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was not a pleasant place to be, and many of the students were exceptionally displeased at Professor Snape's lack of cooperation in maintaining the use of the old room on the third floor.

Draco Malfoy sat in a hard wooden seat in the middle of the room, as he always had always deemed it the perfect spot. Close enough to see, far enough to not garner attention unless he wanted it. He lazily reclined sideways against the back of his chair, his arm draped nonchalantly across the upper tier. To the outside, he looked perfectly casual. The only hint of betrayal to his calm exterior was the way his foot twitched restlessly beneath his jet slacks. He hadn't the slightest clue what Snape was droning on about today, as his baritone, melancholy voice was easily drowned out by the previously existing voices swimming in his head.

He had been feeling more restive than usual lately, allowing his grades to dip and his mood to take a severe turn toward the worst. Being in the presence of his 'Godfather' Severus Snape only exacerbated his foul mood. It annoyed Draco that Snape had picked up a new habit of paying extra close attention to him, both in and out of the classroom. He called on him for answers more than was necessary, and often asked him to stay after class to "discuss his homework", in a manner of speaking. Draco wasn't completely foolish, he realized that Snape had likely been charged with 'keeping an eye on him', and it agitated him to no end that he wasn't even trusted with a simple task like repairing a glorified cabinet without invasive supervision, regardless of how little he actually wanted any part of the fate of it.

Snape didn't seem particularly delighted either, though he never did. He seemed even more dour than usual however, especially during the class periods which were split between Slytherin and Gryffindor house. Draco guessed it likely had something to do with the influx of suspicious Gryffindors in his personal space and tension between the rival sects, spear headed by the revered "Golden Trio". It couldn't have been comfortable having blessed Saint Potter staring you down the entire time you were attempting to teach, or _not_ to teach, in Snape's case. Either way, Snape seemed outwardly dismissive at Potter's rueful gaze, ignoring him with relative ease. Draco found his own gaze drifting towards Potter's female companion, or more specifically, the chestnut locks that adorned the back of her head.

Granger was in the same position she was for every class. Right at the forefront, smack in the middle, hands at the ready on her notebook and quill, attentively taking in every word spoken by the professor. Not to mention protectively surrounded by her lackeys Potter and Weasley on either side of her. Draco audibly scoffed, tilting his head back slightly as he rolled his eyes, drawing peculiar looks from his surrounding classmates, which he ignored. It was like Granger couldn't go anywhere or do anything without a protective shield. Whether she was walking the corridors, dining in the Great Hall, or even just strolling through the grounds, she always had at least one of the two dolts loitering uncomfortably close by. She truly was a Gryffindor princess, complete with security detail and all.

Not that he could blame them in the slightest. With war looming dangerously close on the horizon, Potter had begun to take extra care to never be too far from his mates, as if he could hold back the gates of hell all by himself. As for Weasley, it was no secret that he'd had a pathetic thing for her for almost as long as he'd laid eyes on her. It was also no secret that he had demolished that possibility the second he'd acquired joint custody of Lavender Browns' gob for a brief time a while back. However, that didn't stop him from trying his hardest to scare off potential suitors by never being out of earshot from her.

Draco felt a smirk play on his lips. It hadn't worked well obviously, as Weaslebee would turn as red as his ruddy ginger hair if he knew the things she did in the dark with him. Weasley didn't deserve her anyways, he often thought to himself. She was too smart for him, too ambitious, too pretty and far too kind for a dunce like him. Though the grin steadily fell from Draco's face as he realized all over again that he didn't deserve her either. It hadn't taken long getting to know her to understand why Weasley among countless others coveted her so fiercely. Draco's mind began to wander far from the classroom as he began to reminisce on the beginning steps of their friendship, and how it hadn't taken long at all for him to consider her more than just a "mudblood", but a friend, and shortly thereafter more than that.

' _He had a full plate in front of him, but seconds turned to minutes as he stared blankly at meal. He wasn't hungry, and felt nauseous at the thought of even attempting to pick at the food in front of him. His fellow Slytherins carried on jovially around him, partaking in animated conversations and heated debates about who would win the first Quidditch match of the season, slothful Hufflepuff, or overly analytical Ravenclaw. It had been impressed upon him the importance of keeping up appearances that all was well this year, but he couldn't bring himself to fake it. Not now._

' _Coward' Aunt Bellatrixs' voice echoed in his head. 'You're nothing but a cravenly, weak child. You had her right where you wanted her, and you pansied out like some sort of cur and crawled out of the library like a stray pup with your tail between your legs. So much like your father.' A scowl darkened his features. That would be exactly the type of thing she would say if she knew, the type of talk that would taint his name if any of his elders knew what occurred last night._

 _His hands were shaking furiously, an invisible weight pressing on his shoulders. He knew what he should have done, what anyone else in his position would have done without so much as a second thought. They would have clawed at her throat and watched the light leave her panicked, bulging eyes before leaving her wretched body strung up in the cloisters as a warning to anyone else who dared to defy them. He had it all planned out so perfectly in his head, but things did not go according to plan, to say the absolute least._

 _He had stalked her subtly through a network of Slytherin 'spies' the day before, taking careful precautions to study not only her routine, but when Potter and Weasley wouldn't be around to "interrupt". Upon learning her distress about an upcoming potions exam, he knew that Granger was most likely to visit the library that night to check out a study guide. Through a small amount of footwork, he also discovered that Granger never allowed her simpering companions to accompany her on her private trips to the library, as she found them "distracting"._

 _He took his free period to schmooze Professor Slughorn, expressing his 'admiration' for not only the art of potion making, but also the professor himself, inquiring about what the best guide might be for the upcoming test, expressing his desire to excel in the subject. He had no doubt that Granger had investigated it as well, and would no doubt be after the same book. After several unnecessary and irritating minutes spent discussing the finer points of using wormwood as opposed to elecampane in a healing draught, he finally got the batty codger to divulge the name._

 _It had taken but a moment to find the battered maroon book stacked carefully alongside the others, and then it was only a matter of waiting. He had no way of knowing the specific time she would show, but he knew that it was inevitable. He concealed himself in the shadows, keeping his eyes forward toward the entrance, awaiting her arrival. What must have been hours passed and anticipation built in his stomach, thinking of the rich reward that his family would reap after the Dark Lord learned of his deed and the praise that would be cast upon his name, not to mention that the insufferable mudblood could no longer haunt the halls of Hogwarts, and her companions would be absolutely devastated at her loss._

 _The best part is he knew that Potter & Pals would immediately blame him, but no one could prove a thing, not even his precious Dumbledore. His fellow Slytherins hadn't questioned why he'd asked them to swear to the fact he had been alone in his room with Pansy Parkinson all night if anyone asked, they had simply obliged loyally when he told them "You'll understand soon enough". He had even gotten that silly bint Parkinson to sit in his room and make enough noise for two people and give a testimony that he'd been with her the entire night. He could take Granger out and get off completely free. He was so lost in his fantasies that he almost hadn't noticed a quiet set of footsteps enter the room. _

_Everything after that had happened so fast that he'd barely had time to comprehend it all. He remembered approaching Granger and threatening her vaguely, becoming enraged when she not only dismissed him, but went as far as to insult him and laugh in his face. Before he knew it, his hands were on her throat, but anticipation had turned to panic and anxiety and was threatening to expel the contents of his stomach._

 _He could feel her soft pulse beating rapidly through her warm skin against his palm. Her eyes briskly scanning around the room before bringing her startled gaze to meet his. His fingers were twitching, but as he looked down into her eyes, he couldn't bring himself to clench his hand. She didn't look like the detestable mudblood he had wanted to snuff out only moments before. She looked like a girl who felt scared, alone, and vulnerable. She looked powerless and terrified. She looked.. human._

 _The realization hit him like a brick wall. This wasn't some filthy, subhuman hybrid breathing his air and invading his space. This was a flesh and blood human, someone who could feel terror and panic and pain. This was someone he just attacked. Her blood wasn't like his, but it was still blood running through her veins. They all had been. Every single one his elders had murdered. He felt the color drain from his face, dread overtaking his body. What had he done? What had they all done?_

 _His hand went limp against her collar bone as he ripped his gaze away from her. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. Tonight was supposed to reaffirm his beliefs in all that he had been taught, not rip it up by the foundation. This was supposed to bring honor and praise back to his family name, make his elders proud, and get his father back into the good graces of the Dark Lord. Instead he could feel his hands trembling and his palms perspiring on the nape of her neck._

 _The voices were screaming in his head again. The voice of Bellatrix, the voice of his mother, the voice of his father, the Dark Lord, even Snape. He was being pulled in 1000 different directions, and none of them was a direction he wanted. What had serving Voldemort ever gotten anyone? It had landed his father disgraced and imprisoned, his mother fearing for her life, countless people missing and even more dead. Was this his destiny? To lay down his life, literally, figuratively, or both at the Dark Lords' feet simply because he asked it? To serve without question and kill indiscriminately for.. well he didn't even know why. He could feel himself begin to hyperventilate._

" _Malfoy,"_

 _A voice yanked him from his thoughts. He felt his entire body twitch with surprise, his eyes landing back on the girl who stood in front of him. She had a strange look on her face, one he couldn't quite categorize. There was still a hint of fear behind her earthy eyes, but something else accompanied it as well, something he couldn't quite recognize. She awaited his response, but what could he possibly say? How could he possibly explain? She would demand to know what had just happened, why he had attacked her, why he had just tried to kill her. He couldn't bring himself to move or speak, trapped in the overwhelming consequences of the moment. In a single moment of indecisiveness, he had brought down his entire facade._

" _Malfoy..."_

 _Her voice was tender and soft, even sympathetic. Her eyes had lost any sort of fear or anger and instead seemed to reflect worry and even concern. He furrowed his brows in confusion. Why was she still here? She could have pushed him off and ran for her life straight to McGonagall's office and had him expelled immediately. She could have shoved him back and hexed him within an inch of his life. Instead she still stood beside him, looking at him with an odd sort of determination he couldn't understand._

" _Are you... okay?"_

 _Her words knocked the air from his lungs. He almost staggered back with the weight of them. She was asking about his well being? It was a phrase he hadn't heard genuinely in longer than he could remember from anyone other than his own mother. There was a softness to her eyes and a sincerity to her words that made his heart almost give way. He felt an involuntary reaction happening before he could stop it. His fingers curled lightly around her shoulder, as if to grasp her. His lips parted slightly like a dam about to break from the sheer weight of his burden and he realized just how close he was to breaking apart in front of her, collapsing like a child and confessing everything. The only person who seemed legitimately concerned about him was someone who he despised, someone who he had been trained to systematically murder, someone who he had just tried to kill. It had to be some kind of trick._

 _He pulled himself together quickly, ignoring every fiber of his being that was pleading for him to make her understand, to ask her forgiveness. He couldn't stay here, he had to be alone, he had to think. He jerked his hand back from her shoulder, realizing that he had been becoming all too familiar with the warm sensation of her skin. He felt disgusted with himself as he realized how pitiful he felt looking down at her feeling something other than contempt. He tore his gaze away from her, trying to calculate his next steps but a heavy haze overtook his brain. He couldn't leave things like this._

" _Here's your book, Granger." He jammed the small book into her possession before quickly turning to leave. She could tell someone, she could out him, she could ruin everything. He tried to rationalize his actions to himself as he stalked out of the library, his plan lying in shambles. Somewhere deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, even before she had showed him compassion. He had felt her pulse, her warmth, seen the fear in her eyes when he had laid his hand upon her. Regret snaked up his throat, leaving an empty pit in his stomach. He had signed on for so much more than he could handle. He didn't want this, he couldn't handle this._

" _Draco!"_

 _The word stopped him cold in his tracks. His first name sounded so strange on her lips. In the years they had been forced around each other, she had never once said his first name, he hadn't even been sure she'd known it. The way she had called it left him frozen in place. It sounded gentle, even merciful. He felt a hard swallow gather in his throat as he betrayed his every instinct to turn around. He had nothing to say, nothing he could possibly say to explain what had just occurred. Instead, he forced himself to keep walking out of the library and into the night._

 _Everything else had been a blur. He removed Pansy Parkinson in a less than sensible manner from his room, collapsed on his bed, and fallen into a deep slumber. Now here he sat at the table, bordering on a panic attack, unsure of what could happen. Was Professor Snape on his way to tell him to collect his things? What if she had told Potter? Thousands of scenarios played through his head, each one worse than the last. Through his abundance of emotions, he could still feel a small wave of paranoia, as if someone was staring at him intently. His eyes flicked up, scanning the room for any signs of abnormality. Dread caught a foothold in his stomach and refused to relinquish as a pair of familiar tawny eyes caught his from across the room._

 _Hermione Granger was staring him down, blatantly ignoring the rest of her company. Her eyes remained locked on his despite the fact that Ron was obviously trying to engage her in conversation, and Ginny offhandedly kept looking to her for what appeared to be input for her conversation she was having with another Gryffindor girl. Draco felt his face flush and panic rise in his throat. What could she want? Was she going to blackmail him? She could turn to Potter any minute and out him and he would consider himself finished._

 _Strangely her eyes didn't hold any hint of malice or anger. It was the same sort of look she had the previous night. A curious mix of emotions he couldn't place. The longer he left his focus meeting hers, the more distressed he felt himself becoming. It was making him uncomfortable. He didn't know what she was playing at, but he wanted no part of it._

 _He tore his gaze away from her, shoving the plate away and removing himself from the bench. He sauntered quickly towards the exit, ignoring startled inquiries from his friends and refusing to even look in the general direction of the Gryffindor table. He pushed his way past the doors and shuffled quickly along the main hall, moving even quicker when he heard the sound of footsteps following shortly behind him. He turned into a deserted corridor, having no particular destination in mind, simply wanting to quell his anxiety that he was being followed. His panic was heightened when the same set of footsteps followed him down several more deserted corridors, even when he made a point of walking in circles, visiting several of the same hallways twice._

 _He quickened his pace, his mind racing. His mind was racing too fast to be able to deduce who was stalking him, but he knew it couldn't possibly be a good thing. He quickly turned a corner and ducked into a nearby shadowed alcove, concealing himself in the dark and waiting for whoever it was to pass. He heard the steps come to a soft halt shortly after reaching the bend, taking a few more cautious steps forward before stopping just in front of the sections of anterooms. He held his breath, closing his eyes in anticipation, hoping with his entire being that whoever it was would just leave. They sat in silence for several moments, and he waited eagerly for the presence to dissipate._

" _I think we need to talk."_

 _His eyes shot open. The delicate, feminine voice was that of Granger, and it was her presence standing only a few feet away. This did nothing to ease his severe uneasiness. He pushed himself closer to the wall, refusing to respond. There was nothing she could possibly say that he wanted to hear._

" _We need to talk."_

 _She repeated. He grit his teeth together, feeling himself become agitated. The longer she stood near, the more he could smell the soft aroma of her perfume. If she was going rat him out, she should just do it. No need to give him a 'heads up' about it. He continued to say nothing._

" _Oh, don't insult my intelligence. I know you're there, Draco."_

 _Her voice was laced with irritation. His lip began to twitch and he heaved a particularly dramatic sigh as he pushed himself out from the dark shelter. Instead of turning to face her, he continued further down the hallway, ignoring her plea. He heard her grunt in frustration under her breath as she set off after him._

" _There's nothing to say, Granger." He rolled his eyes as she dashed up alongside him, set in her determination._

" _I have plenty to say." She reaffirmed stubbornly._

" _I don't care." He began to move faster, hoping futilely that she would fall behind or just give up entirely. He may not have known her intimately, but he did know her well enough to know that when Granger had her mind set on something, she wasn't going to give up easily._

" _Really? Because if you didn't have even the slightest interest in what I had to say, you would have hexed me the moment you turned the corner." She stated matter-of-factly. He stopped in his tracks, realizing that the thought hadn't even crossed his mind to do so. The pair sat in silence for several moments before he finally spoke._

" _I can't be seen talking to a mudblood." He stated shortly, refusing to look her in the eyes as he did so. He saw a small look of hurt flash across her face for a split second, replaced by even further resolve._

" _Can't be seen?" She arched her brow at him. "Because last I checked, it was'absolutely refuse to even speak' to a mudblood. What changed?" She demanded. He groaned audibly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again._

" _Get lost, Hermione." He turned to leave, ignoring that she stood frozen in place._

" _Hermione? Did.. did you just call me Hermione? Not mudblood, not filth, not even 'Granger', but Hermione?" She sounded genuinely taken back by the sentiment._

" _Oh hell..." He swore, realizing his mistake. Truth be told, he was rather surprised by it himself. His surprise turned into confusion and then severe agitation, both at himself and her. "Stop looking so bloody deep into things and grasping at straws. Nothing has changed, Granger. Now leave me the hell alone."_

" _Plenty has changed, Draco, and plenty more can change if you would stop being so stubborn and listen!" She pleaded, sounding exasperated. His temper reached a boiling point and he felt rage gather in his stomach._

" _Oh, you're right, Granger. Plenty has changed." He turned to face her, glaring her down. "Like that I could have_ _ **strangled**_ _you for instance! I could have_ _ **murdered**_ _you, Granger, and if I was you, I would be the last person in this entire bloody castle I would want to be cornered in a dark hall with!"_

 _Her face softened, and her eyes filled with that damn compassion again. "You're right, Draco. You could have." She paused for a moment before speaking again. "But you didn't. You didn't strangle me, you didn't even hurt me and you had every opportunity in the world to do it."_

" _That doesn't mean a damn thing, Granger." He sneered._

" _It means_ _ **everything**_ _, Draco!" She shouted. "I know about that mark on your arm and I know what it means. I also know that if you truly wanted to, you could have left me for dead and been in a better position for it. But you didn't!"_

" _And who's to say I won't now?" He threw his hands in the air. "Who's to say I won't later? Who's to say what I'll be asked to do next and what the consequences will be when I fail? You're so damn smart Granger, then you tell me! You tell me what this means!" He yanked his sleeve up and shoved the hideous, writhing tattoo in her face._

 _She didn't recoil, but she closed her eyes as she spoke softly. "We can help you. We can help you if you let us. You don't have to do this."_

 _He contorted in cruel laughter. "Oh yes, please Hermione, let's skip to Dumbledore's office hand in hand right now together and tell him all about how I have the Dark Mark on my arm. Oh even better, let's run to Saint bloody Potter and tell him that his nemesis is a Death Eater, but 'desperately needs his help!" He raised his voice in mockery._

" _Okay, you don't trust them, I understand and that's fair." A calculated look came over her features. "I can help you. We don't have to involve anyone else. Let me help you."_

" _Yes,_ _ **do**_ _tell me all about how 'the brightest witch of her age' is going to single handedly take down the Dark Lord, I'd love to fucking hear it. You couldn't even defend yourself against me, let alone his psychotic legions." He spat at her. She remained calm regardless._

" _I don't have to 'single handedly' take down the Dark Lord to help you. The burden you're carrying has to be immense and-"_

 _A cold, distant look overtook his features as he cut her off. "You have no idea, Granger. You cannot even possibly conceive what it's like. You can not,_ _ **could not**_ _possibly_ __ _understand what it's like to have the lives of everyone you care about, your family and friends riding on your shoulders because if you don't do what a madman in a cape says, he's going to murder everything and everyone you love, and then you." He shook her by the shoulders, feeling a slight stinging behind his eyelids. After a moment, she looked up at him with sad eyes._

" _You're right, Draco. I don't understand. I can't understand what it's like, and it must be.. overwhelming to say the least." She slowly raised her hand and placed it on top of his. "I can't heal your pain or change your situation alone, but I can give you someone you can talk to. I can be.. a friend." He looked at her as though she'd gone mad, but she continued anyways. "I know you can't tell anyone about your situation, but I already know, and I promise you have nothing to fear from me. I give you my word that Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, no one will ever know anything you tell me unless you give me explicit permission. No one ever has to know, nothing has to change except that you know you can trust me and talk to me, and I can do my best to help you, or even just listen."_

 _He looked down at her, taking in her words. She seemed wholeheartedly sincere, and there was no hint of deception or trickery in her eyes. She resumed after allowing him to contemplate for a moment._

" _I know I'm the last person on Earth you'd ever choose to talk to, the last person you'd trust, but fate seems to have thrown us together, and at least someone is better than no one. You're alone in the dark right now. At least let me help you how I can." She beseeched him, tightening her grasp on his hand._

 _The pair sat silent and still for a long time. Hermione never moved her hand from his or her focus from his eyes. He knew he should push her off and tell her to get lost again, but some small part of him was protesting it, begging him to accept the offer. He was alone, he had no one he could truly talk to, and granted the one person who understood his situation was the person he least desired to talk to, it was still someone. Someone who understood the gravity of his reality, and someone who was earnestly offering to be there for him, despite everything they had been through._

" _...And why would you do this? Why would you betray your friends for me? Someone who has never been anything but hateful and cruel to your kind?" His words were barely above a whisper._

" _Because I believe there's something more to you, Draco. The other night in the library... I saw something in you. I've told you before, you could have easily killed me, but you didn't. I know how you feel about... people like me, but I don't think you're a murderer, and I don't think you're as hateful as you believe. I think that you're scared, and I think you feel like you have no choice." Her words brought a rise of emotion in his throat. He inhaled deeply, looking away from her, taking a moment to think about her offer._

" _We'll... see." He lingered a moment longer before he began walking again, leaving her standing alone in the corridor._

"Mr. Malfoy," A surly, severely agitated voice roused him from his daydream. "Seeing as you've been _preoccupied_ the previous 4 times I've called your name, perhaps you care to share with the class exactly what it is that you've found so _enthralling_?" Snape loomed overhead, arching his unkempt ebony brow at him. Draco's face flushed a deep shade of crimson as he realized he had been staring at the back of Hermione's head for the past half hour, and even worse that she had taken notice and has also turned a severe state of red. He glanced around self consciously, hoping no one else had taken notice.

"Nothing at all, Professor. Just thinking about finals." He stated lazily, struggling to maintain his facade.

"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy? Naturally if that is the case, you'll have no problem seeing me after class about these troubling thoughts about _finals_." Snape retorted suspiciously.

"Of course, Professor. No trouble at all." Malfoy kicked back casually again, adding in a yawn for added effect. Snape glared at him for another brief moment before returning to his lecture. Draco's eyes shifted back to Hermione, who was still staring at him out of the corner of her eye. He opened his mouth as if to mouth an apology, but decided against it. Instead, he offered her a sly smile, almost laughing audibly when her face once again turned as red as her scarf.


	5. Cold Comfort

_**Authors Note: College is a hobby killer. Absolute hobby killer. The last week I updated was one of the last few weeks I had freedom from the strangling binds of my professors and their endless waves of assignments. Never take all core, folks. It does a body harm. Take underwater basket weaving or something instead. Anyways, this story is indeed clunky and I've found that a lot of it doesn't really make sense until you read the next chapter, not to mention that I think the characters would have initially acted with more aggression in the opening sequences, but whatever. Too lazy to go back and fix it now. Let us just pretend that they had a cliché subconscious attraction and admiration for each other that makes them 'softer' to the other in their own peculiar ways prior to 'the altercation', as I have dubbed it.**_

 _ **WARNING: THE SAP! THE SAAAAAP! FLOOF! I hate fluff, but you know. Necessary sometimes.**_

"What a creep! Did'ja see him staring her down like that? Right out in the open too, in front of everyone! I swear he's gone barking mad. He's finally lost it." Blood rushed to Ron's face, staining his ginger complexion a more exaggerated color of 'sunburned peach' than it naturally was. "Even Snape noticed! Called 'im out right in front of everyone! I can't believe it! Slytherin untouchable called out by his own!" His arms waved about in a peculiar fashion, giving the impression of a marionette with a poor puppeteer behind the strings. Hermione swatted his arm out of her path, making no effort to conceal her agitation with the present situation. He had been going off ever since they left the dungeon based classroom, drawing curious looks from bystanders with his heated conversation.

It didn't help that Harry was equally up in arms about the occurrence, albeit less animated with his suspicion. Harry's brow furrowed in frustration, a look she recognized as an attempt make sense of Draco's less than inconspicuous actions. "I don't think he's gone mad." Harry pursed his lips, his fingers tapping restlessly against his palm as they maneuvered the waves of students rushing to their second classes. "But Ron has a point. I think he's got something planned. Whatever it is, he just can't resist bragging, even if it is just with that grin of his." She bit her cheek to keep from groaning as he turned his flustered face toward hers, a mix of concern and frustration reflected behind his dirtied spectacles. "You need to be careful."

As Harry began his paternal speech, Hermione resisted the urge to slap her own forehead. It was the beginning of a rant she had heard a million times and a million times more. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the meaning behind his fatherly rants, she just wished that they would realize that she was just as capable without them and that she didn't need their protection. Completely unaware of her annoyance, he continued on anyways. "Whatever it is, it can't be good, and I suspect that it has to do with you. He's always had it out for you, especially after you almost broke his nose back in the day. I'm willing to bet that he's behind a lot of the strange things going on around here, since he has all of Slytherin and even a few choice teachers to watch his back for him since he's probably become…" Harry stopped midsentence when she threw him an icy stare out of the corner of her eye. The entire gang had heard countless theories about Malfoy's unconfirmed status as a Death Eater, and even Ron had begun to roll his eyes whenever anyone said anything that Harry could even remotely link to Malfoy and Death Eater. After a brief moment, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I guess you probably already know what I think."

"Honestly, you two are paranoid. Malfoy and I have glaring matches frequently. We're not exactly friendly, you know. You're looking too deeply into all of this." Hermione let out a flustered sigh, shaking her head vigorously as if to deny an accusation, even though there was none. "He's just Malfoy being Malfoy, and apparently it's working on you both. I thought you were better than to fall for his antics after all these years."

"Even I think that's being a bit lax. I mean look at 'im. A _match_ implies that you're glaring back. He was staring at you from behind! For like 45 minutes! In _Snape's_ class! Snape!" An involuntary shudder wracked over Ron as he spat out the name. "Everyone noticed, even his own posse. He was in a trance! You should have seen Parkinson. She looked like she could explode! Woulda been a laugh if it hadn't been so bloody creepy. I think he was sizing you up, 'Mione, and I don't like it. Something in his stare made me uncomfortable. It was like he was thinkin-"

"No!" A fierce blush overtook her. "We're not going there. Not ever, Ronald." Molly Weasley voice found its way out of Hermione's throat, and she apparently was getting quite good at it. Ron stopped short, his face donning a look reminiscent of a child being scolded for a few seconds before continuing.

"Look, all I'm saying is he is a man." He started to speak, but quickly backtracked after Harry shot him confused look and he realized what had just come out of his mouth. "Well, as close as you can get while being a purity obsessed psychopath with daddy issues." The revision received a nod of approval from Harry. "I mean, we're not kids anymore, and you've grown up… nice and all." His ears pinkened lightly. "That means that even if that prat finds you 'inferior', it's not totally implausible to say that he can't control having some less than pure thoughts abou-" The rest of his sentence came out as a series of muffled noises after a hand clapped over his mouth. Just in time, as she began to feel stings of embarrassment prickling their way upward toward her ruddied cheeks at the entirety of the awkward subject.

"Good Merlin, Ron. I needed to think about that, and I'm sure Hermione didn't need that imagery either right after breakfast." The owner of the hand stepped forward, revealing herself to be Ginny. Hermione subdued a few stray waves of shame and did her best to disguise her utter mortification. "And besides, he'd have some stiff competition, Ron. Everyone in a ten mile radius of here knows you're in _looooove_." The pitch of her voice when up several octaves as she mockingly put her hands over her heart and faux swooned.

Ron turned a violent shade of maroon and nudged Ginny hard in the ribs. "Am not! And that's rubbish!" He narrowed his eyes at Ginny, who subsequently shot a sideways eye-roll at Harry, who returned it respectively. Hermione jumped at the chance to change the subject, even if it was one that made her border on ill.

" _Besides,_ " The increased volume of her voice caught the attention of the other three. "we should be worrying about our studies. Since all the teachers have more or less been silenced, we'll need to be resourceful and find ways to get the information ourselves. What they're teaching us now is completely irrelevant, but I should be able to compile some of what we need in the library."

Ginny let out a burst of laughter. "I'm sure you've got all the books you'll need memorized, if not the information in them as well." Harry chuckled and Ron flashed a small grin. Ginny allowed herself to snicker a moment longer before glancing down at a small pocket watch hidden within her robes. "You all had better get going. Only a few more moments before classes start, and you know how they feel about punctuality these days." She gave a small wave before disappearing into the dissipating mob of students.

"That's a good point, we'd better hurry." Hermione and the rest of the gang picked up their pace slightly. "I can't get detention, I need to get to the library after dinner."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We should all get to class, that way none of us will get detention and we can all actually make it there on time tonight."

Hermione shot him a curious glance. "I didn't realize you had any research."

"Well, _we_ " He motioned toward himself and Ron "-don't. But if you do, that means we go too. It's not safe anymore. Especially after today. I don't want anything to happen to any of us, so we should all stick together from now on. It's less likely they'll be able to catch us off guard if there's all of us." Harry and Ron gave a small nod toward each other.

An angry groan escaped her throat. "It was a _look_. He didn't hex me, he didn't threaten me, he _looked_ at me! Maybe he was spacing off. Maybe he was bored and prodding! Honestly, you two, this is ridiculous. You're letting _Malfoy_ get to you! I've told you before, my private study sessions are important to me. I love you both, but neither of you can be silent or still for more than ten seconds and nothing gets done! What good is going to the library anyways if I have a protective detail and can't focus?" She threw her hands into the air in frustration. "If I find out you're following me, I'll curse you to the middle ages and have you hung as witches!" Both Ron and Harry backed away slightly before raising their hands defensively, their eyes open in mild surprise at her ferocity.

She gave a dignified sigh, signaling the end of her rant. "Now, I know for a fact that you two both have Transfiguration and you're both headed the opposite way, so I'll see you both in the Great Hall for dinner, _okay_?" Her 'okay' sounded less like a suggestion and more like a demand, and they knew it was dangerous territory to argue with her, so they simply nodded stiffly. "Good, glad to hear it." She threw her hand in the air signaling her departure as she quickly jogged down the nearly empty corridor, leaving them both standing speechless at her sudden outburst.

Hermione dodged around the corner and waited a few moments to make sure her guard dogs didn't follow despite her wishes. After listening around the corner, she decided she was satisfied and began to make her way towards Charms, knowing full well she would at least be several moments late since her class was halfway across the castle and the hallways were emptying rather quickly. Hopefully Flitwick would excuse her tardiness. He was usually rather amiable towards her, but she didn't wish to push his kindness. Exhaling in an attempt to expunge the sheer crudeness and discomfort of the previous conversation, she began making her way towards the classroom.

The light patter of her footsteps on the stone staircase echoed through the castle halls as she found herself lost in her own thought. The entire thing was a complete mess. A few more situations like that and it wouldn't be long before someone began prodding, whether it was her side or his. According to Ron, even the Slytherins had noticed, and though they probably believed he was scheming, they were no fools. Eventually they would put together the pieces and everything would quickly fall apart. Worry creased her face as she turned the corner into the corridor that housed the Charms classroom.

She was only a few yards away from the class when she heard a noise at the end of the corridor. She whirled around in surprise, as castle corridors were usually empty and dead silent during class time these days and she hadn't expected to see anyone else. However, she wished she hadn't as her eyes met the languid figure moving toward her, and she couldn't help but glare in vexation.

"Oh! You're letting _Maaaalfoy_ get to you! Ooh!" Malfoy's mock-shrill voice sounded utterly ridiculous coming from his lanky yet physically imposing figure. The derisive movements of his arms only furthered the absurdity of his sarcastic jest, reminding Hermione of the time he spoofed the dementors in year three. Anger sparked in her throat and her mouth curled in annoyance, but it did nothing to settle the butterflies roaming freely around her stomach. He drew closer, eventually settling in close proximity to her person, smirking with self-satisfaction, awaiting some sort of reaction. Crossing her arms and glowering in disapproval, she refused to give him any sort of feedback besides that of strict irritation.

To her chagrin, this didn't dissuade him in the slightest. He only proceeded to move closer and closer to her until his mouth rested lightly against her ear and his warm breath sent shivers down her neck. "I might be getting to them, but I've found I like getting inside _you_ much, much better." A smirk graced his features as her eyes almost bulged clear out of her head and she stood dumbstruck for several moments. Surprise was replaced with blatant rage as she grabbed him fiercely by the collar and dragged him into a nearby shadowed alcove and shoved him hard against the wall.

"Have you _lost_ your _mind_?" Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, crumpling his perfectly ironed jet shirt in her fist. "If _anyone_ had seen, if anyone had _heard_ you!" Turning, she pulled her hands away and raked them through her hair. "What is wrong with you? The staring, the stalking, the comments in the open? Have you gone mad? You'll finish us both!" She cried in exasperation.

The side of Malfoy's lip curled upward slightly and he shook his head as she stared daggers at him, awaiting a response. "What can I say?" He smiled coyly and folded his arms, resting his body comfortably against the stone walls of the alcove. Her mouth dropped in disbelief at his sheer lack of regard for the situation.

"What can you say? By Merlin, Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Her nails scraped at the side of her face in mortification. Draco pulled his arms away from himself and grabbed her cold hands with his strangely heated ones. She glanced up at him through her disheveled hair, anger still prominent in her features. He entwined her fingers with his and held them tightly, allowing them to in silence with nothing but light breathing to be heard.

It was only after several minutes and a decreased heartrate on Hermione's part that he finally spoke. "I don't know what to say. I can't help it. We've tried to break it off, we've tried to quit. I've thought about it and I know you have too. I know it's killing you inside, lying to your friends like that. I can see it your eyes." Hermione shifted her gaze toward the ground, holding back a dam of tears. "I finally realized why it's so hard for me. I don't _want_ it to end. It's been months and months of this. At first I just thought it was cold comfort, but... I think it's more than that, and I think you do too, but maybe I'm wrong." He clutched her hands tighter as they began to shake, staring at the stone beneath his feet. "You've helped me realize things, see things that I was so blind to. I thought it was a cruel twist of fate, craving something that has been condemned and barred from me my whole life. In the calm of the storm, I found shelter in the very home I should be ripping apart piece by piece, and now anything else seems empty and hollow without your warmth there." Malfoy bit his bottom lip to keep it from visibly quaking, summoning up the courage to speak words that fought exposure.

"I know it's not fair to you, and I won't ever force you to be with me. I know I joke, but I also recognize how hard it was back there, fibbing about all of it to your friends. We're battling insurmountable odds on both sides and I know that no one close would ever accept it. If you want to be free, I won't stop you. I just want you to know that I… _appreciate_ all that you've done." Malfoy fumbled slightly over the word 'appreciate' like it was foreign to him. "I'll support whatever decision you make. You don't have to make it now, I just… wanted you to know what I felt." He maneuvered his eyes back up towards hers, quickly noticing that they were glistening with emotion. She remained speechless with an unreadable expression painted on her face, and he felt his heart drop in his stomach. Loosening his grip on her hands, he prepared himself for the blow that was to follow. Hermione noticed his sudden withdraw and instead pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I don't know how and I don't know why, but the Gods have seen fit to place us into the position we are. It's dangerous and flat out daft of us to carry on…" She paused momentarily, formulating the words as he looked down at her in anticipation and sadness. "But I don't care. I've sacrificed countless things for this war, but this is one thing that I refuse to let pass. We're in enough danger as it is, and the outcome is the same either way. Let us take comfort in the moments we have it instead of turning away the only small fraction of truth we feel." She nuzzled her head into his shoulder as he began to stroke her hair. "We must be cautious. We won't last for long, carrying on like this. We need to think of something. Dancing around in shadows never lasts long in the best of situations, and when the dam finally breaks and it becomes all out war…" Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought, rummaging through the possibilities for a brief moment, but quickly pulled herself out of her own head. "The point is, we'll have to come into the light at some point. We just need a way." They both allowed their bodies to slump downward against the wall and onto the floor in a small bundle of entwined flesh and cloth.

"It sounds so stupid and foolish, like that _muggle_ tale with the two star-crossed lovers." Draco flinched as Hermione raised her hand and lightly smacked the back of his head for his distasteful pronunciation of muggle. "Habit, habit." He apologized and cupped her hand again. "Of all the problems I knew I'd have, this was definitely not one of them. I was certainly _not_ going to court Parkinson as my parents pressured me to, and I knew that would cause a ruckus, but this…" The pair locked eyes. "Now this is going to be a real riot." Laughter bubbled out of both of them, partially in part due to a mental image of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's horrified faces when the news broke, and partially in spite of themselves, believing that they would ever last that long. They let their childish chuckles die down and silence once again blanketed the alcove. Eventually, Malfoy turned his face to meet hers.

"I really do think I might actually love you, Granger. In a world full of impossible things and magic, that's one thing I never thought possible, and once again, you've bested me and proven me wrong despite myself." She beamed up at him, blushing madly. "Bloody know-it-all…" He whispered under his breath and she tapped him on the back of his head again, scolding him.

"And I think it's a definite probability that I might just love you too, Malfoy. Even if you are a bigoted bully." Hermione pinched his cheek playfully. The two sat comfortably in each other's arms for a while, basking in the warmth of the other's aura. To the outside world, it would have been a truly ridiculous sight. No one would even dare enchant a picture to show the scene for fear of the wrath of both sides. Yet, many things tend to happen in the darkened nooks scattered within Hogwart's walls, and this was just another scandal that should walls be capable of speech, surely it would cause an insufferable amount of chatter between stones.

After a while, Hermione couldn't help herself. "How badly did it hurt you to say all that?" To which Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows.

"Pretty bad, actually. I'm not much for opening up, if you hadn't noticed. I had to look up half of those words in a dictionary before using them. I think it actually gave me heart burn. Or maybe it was you. Because you're hot." He flashed her a cheesy grin and she audibly groaned and shook her head.

"Now that was bad. Are you proud of that?"

"Not really, no, but I tend to lose my wit around you. Speaking of wit, I believe we're both going to need it in spades. I'm not entirely sure what time it is, but I do know that we've both missed the opening of our classes." Malfoy shrugged in apathy, dismissing whatever lesson he neglected that day. Hermione went into deep thought for a moment, filing through her rarely used book of excuses.

"I slept poorly last night, and I'm sure half the common room noticed it. They can vouch that after my first class, I retired to the common rooms from exhaustion. Flitwick won't question it. Although…" She pointed her finger at him, raising an eyebrow. "Weren't you supposed to be meeting with Snape right about now?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. "For the eighteenth time this week, I swear. He won't leave me alone ever since… Well, you already know. He's turning into a reluctant therapist, constantly asking things he doesn't even care to know the answer to like what I've been up to and how I'm feeling." He scoffed. "I'm certain my mother is behind it. We aren't able to talk much, and I'm sure she worries. I just wished she'd picked anyone but Snape, or better yet, no one at all. She can talk to me herself if she has inquiries."

"You're saying you blew him off? I'm sure he appreciated that." She shook her head in scorn.

"I do it all the time. He doesn't want any part in the conversations any more than I do. Think of it as giving him a break. Besides, he needs that extra time to practice skulking in the shadows and making his robe flow in such a way that it gives you chills." Draco raised his hands and danced his fingers around the air, mimicking a ghost to which Hermione let out a chortle.

Eventually, the two rested their heads together, sitting in comfortable silence for a long while, simply enjoying each other's company in a haze of hormones. It wasn't until the first student exited a classroom that they were awoken from their daze, realizing just how much time had passed. Turning toward each other in a slight panic, they realized they had to think of something and fast, because soon the hallways would be flooded with students and their peaceful retreat wouldn't be quite so concealing any longer. Malfoy pushed himself off the dusty ground and dusted off his jacket, shortly after offering his hand to Hermione and pulling her to her feet. They listened as students began filing out of classrooms, banter echoing off the walls and into their sanctuary.

"When in doubt, go with what you know best." Hermione stated matter-of-factly, receiving a puzzled look from Draco. "Just follow my lead, and pretend it's a year ago." She fixed her hair and straightened her robes, getting herself into character, eventually stomping herself out of the alcove and right into the swarm of oncoming students.

"Leave me alone! Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around in your pathetic attempts at tormenting me?" Hermione raised her voice slightly above normal conversation level, causing several students in the surrounding area to turn their heads. At first Malfoy was taken completely by surprise that she was drawing attention to herself as well as him, until he realized exactly what she was doing.

' _Clever minx, establishing a story.'_ He let his customary smirk play over his features as he stepped forward from the shadows. "Oh, I assure you, I have many better things to do rather than make conversation with you, if you can call it conversation with a mongrel like yourself. In fact, anything is better than your general vicinity. I can smell your dirty blood from here." Malfoy feigned crinkling his nose in disgust as Hermione began to twitch her lip in 'anger'.

"I'll take my heritage any day of the week over your undeserved superiority complex. Now crawl back under the rock you came from before your parasitic family gets worried." She waved him off, turning on her heel and strolling off into the crowd of half confused, half entertained spectators.

"Whatever you say, Granger. Try a steaming bath. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you can scrub off the foul stench of dirt and inferiority that plagues everyone around you." Malfoy glared at her a few seconds longer for effect and then sauntered off down the hall, giving an uncharacteristic nod to any Slytherins that happened to cross his path.

"What's got him in such a good humor?" Blaise Zabini whispered to Daphne Greengrass as Malfoy passed. Daphne pursed her lips and stroked her slender finger across her pretty face.

"I'm not entirely sure, but if I didn't know better…" She paused briefly. "I'd say he derives entirely too much pleasure from mocking that girl."


End file.
